


Fast Food

by AgentOHare



Series: G1 Vore [8]
Category: Transformers - All Media Types, Transformers Generation One
Genre: Accidental Vore, Gen, Stomachache, Vore
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-09
Updated: 2018-01-09
Packaged: 2019-03-02 16:34:42
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 586
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13322163
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AgentOHare/pseuds/AgentOHare
Summary: Don't keep your mouth open Blurr, you'll catch drones...





	Fast Food

**Author's Note:**

> Hello readers~  
> After this story I'd like you to give your input on the spacing format and whether or not it is an improvement over the previous story.  
> Thanks!

Ratchet pinched the bridge of his nose.

 

“So tell me Blurr,  _ what  _ exactly is going on?”

 

The blue speedster looked up, an arm curled about his midsection.

 

“WellyouseeRatchetIwasgoingoutforarunsinceitwasabeautifulsunnypeacefulDecepticonfreedayandIneededtostretchmylegsandwheelssinceI’msureyouknowtheimportanceofregularexcerciseinmaintainingjointmaneuverability-”

 

“Yeah, yeah, I know.” Ratchet grunted, only having gleaned something about running. “So you were out for a run… Then what happened?”

 

“AnywayIwasracingdownthisnicestretchofroadbythepowerplantyouknowtheonewiththetwohugeconcretemetalsmokestacksthatarebigenoughthatOmegaSupremecouldprobablyuseahollowedoutoneasaberthifheknockeditonitssidethatremindsmehow _ does _ OmegasleepImeanhehashugeenergyreservesbutIbetevenhegetstiredsometimesthoughIdon’tthinkthere’saberthinthisuniversebigenoughforhim-”

 

“Blurr…” Ratchet growled, vocoder low and dangerous. “Back on topic.”

 

“Okoksorryit’sjustthatIhaveanawfulterriblenogoodtendencytorambleonandonandonforever-”

 

“It's alright Blurr. Now will you tell me what the problem is?”

 

“AlrightbacktothetopiconhandsoIwasjustracingfeelingthewindblowpastmehavingasplendidtimeandthoroghlyenjoyingtherunner’shighwhenIrememberbackafewdaysagoduringtheheatwavedoyouremembertheheatwaveitwasabsolutelyswelteringsizzlinghothothotIfeltlikemytiresweregoingtomelttothepavement-”

 

“Blurr…”

 

“OhwhoopsmybadmymistakethereIgoramblingagainsoanywaytherewerethoselittleprimitiveairfansrunninginthebaseandSpikewaatalkingandsingingintothefanandtheairmadehisvoicesoundabsolutelygutbustinglyhilarious-”

 

Speaking of “gut-bustingly”, Blurr's tirade was cut off by a grunt of pain. Both arms were now rubbing Blurr's abdomen in slow circles.

 

“So your stomach hurts?” Ratchet deadpanned. “Why didn't you just tell me?”

 

“Ithoughtthecauseofmycurrentlittlepredicamentmighthelpyouwithyourdiagnosis.”

 

“Ah… Continue.”

 

Blurr looked slightly surprised, but obliged.

 

“SoIwasthinkingaboutSpikeandIthoughtwhynottryitoutmyselfIbetitwouldmakethisalreadygreatdayjustabitbettersoIdecidedtosingDarebyStanBushhaveyoueverlistenedtoStanBushhe’sawonderfulartistandDareismyfavoritesongthoughifIhadtopickacloseseconditwouldundoubtedlybeTheTo-”

 

“And how is Stan Bush relevant to your abdominal pain?”

 

“Rightrightgoodpointtouche.IwassingingmyventsouteventhoughI’mnotaverygoodsingerIdoubtanyonewouldhavehearditoverthesonicboomasIrushedpastthemhonestlyI’mprettysurprisedIcouldevenhearmyselfsorrysorrysorryIgotofftrackagainthatwasinconsideraterudeandawasteofyoirtimeRatchet-”

 

“It's ok.”

 

“MovingonthensoI’msingingwhensuddenlysomethingfliesintomymouthandhitsthebackofmythroatandgetsstuckthereIalmosttrippedinshockwhichI’msureyouknowisn’tagoodideawhenyou’removingatMach1soIbarelymanagetoskidtoastopleavingbehindamarkthathadtobeagoodfivemileslonginmywake-”

 

“Alright, so you were choking?”

 

“YesIwasandletmetellyouRatchetitwasnotfunIwasgaggingwithmyhandsonmythroattryingtoforcewhateveritwasthathadflownintomythroatoutsoIcouldventagainbutItwaswedgedreallydeepinthereandIthinkitwasmovingtoobutIwastoopanickedatthetimetocare-”

 

Blurr gave a sudden yelp of pain, curling up and pressing his arms against his aching gut, dentae gritted and optics squeezed shut.

 

“You alright kid!?”

 

“Ithurtsithurtsithurtsithurtsit’smostdefinitelymostassuredlymostcertainlymovingaroundRatchetIthinkIswallowedsomekindofcreature!!!”

 

Blurr panted, then looked up and grunted.

 

“Help. Me.”

 

Ratchet got up and made for the supply drawer, pulling out an endoscope.

 

“Ok Blurr, this is a camera. We're going to use it to see what exactly you swallowed today. On a count of 3, I want you to swallow this little bulbed end of the tube.”

 

“O-ok…”

 

“One…”

 

“Mmph…” Blurr whimpered, not looking forward to eating anything at all.

 

“Two…” Ratchet placed the scope in Blurr's waiting mouth.

 

“Three!”

 

Shaking away his apprehension, Blurr fought to get the camera down. It was more of a psychological battle if anything, as a single well-placed gulp was all that was necessary.

 

Soon the camera flickered on to show the view of it snaking down Blurr's esophageal tubing. The skinny passage rippled in waves, sending the camera down to meet the valve separating the esophagus and the fuel tank, which opened to allow entry.

 

Ratchet and Blurr were greeted with the image of a small Decepticon camera drone skulking in the comparatively cramped tank. It looked defeated yet distinctly pissed off, as it was quite apparent that it had been trying to bust its way out of its captor.

 

“ _ Well  _ now…” Ratchet trailed. This was an uncomfortable reminder of the operation he had to perform not too long ago. Bumblebee’s recovery was going swimmingly, thank Primus.

 

Blurr turned his head away in embarrassment, flashing back to the incident…

 

_ Cruising around at the speed of sound, Blurr was having the time of his life. He felt free, the air whooshing past him as if he was flying. He opened his mouth and sang, albeit off-key. _

 

_ “D-a-a-a-r-e! Da-a-r-e to be-l-i-e-v-e you can-s-u-r-v-iiiiii-v-e!” _

 

_ Unfortunately, Blurr was so distracted that he didn't see the cat-sized object that was coming at him. _

 

_ “D-a-HURK!” _

 

_ Something had flown into his open mouth and hit his throat like a bullseye, wedging itself in and cutting off Blurr's vents. Panicking, he stumbled and skidded to a stop, gouging the pavement for a good mile. He doubled over, retching and trying to force whatever it was that was in his throat out, but it only went deeper. He choked even more, but the thing eventually got so deep that he was forced to swallow. Involuntary action took over, and one or two tough gulps later he had an uncomfortable weight in his fuel tank. _

 

_ Panting, Blurr tried to get air going through his systems again, wondering just what the hell had happened. _

 

Well, now he knew.

 


End file.
